


engulfed

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: (what was that? earth-63? 64?), F/F, Genderswap, Hypothermia, Love Confession, naked cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 23:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: jettiebettie asked for: Give me the CLASSIC. Give me the ULTIMATE. Give me hypothermia + bed sharing, any pairing!!





	engulfed

There’s a book series called “A Series of Unfortunate Events” written by a woman called Lemon Snickety. Someone had referenced it around Steph once and she’d made a mental note to check the books out when she got the chance because it’s a clever title. But she’d also thought that _that _could be the title of her autobiography. And it’s that title that comes back to her when she falls out of the portal made by a faulty AIM device and crashes, back first, through the ice and into a pool of icy water.

Something happens as soon as she’s engulfed by the cold; something disconnects in her mind. Or her mind from her body. She’s there but _not _there at the same time as she floats by under the ice, watching distorted blobs of color pass by. She’s wondering why it’s so bright up there. It should be darker. It’d been sunset when the plane had left the ramp. No, darker. She’d seen the sun set as she’d decided to crash the plane into the ocean. It shouldn’t be light out.

Everything's jagged on the edges; her memory bleeds. Steph doesn’t know which way is up and which is down. There's too much conflicting information; she doesn't know what's true anymore. When black covers her vision, she thinks, _ah. See. I didn’t fall out of a portal. I got knocked out of the plane. I was misremembering things. _

She feels heavy and weighed down; water and gravity doing their work she imagines. She drifts. Mind numb with cold and thoughts white noise that crackle in her ear. There’s strange noises that edge through the static. A sharp crack. A muffled voice. A cold touch. Weightlessness. Cold. So much cold. Why is it so cold? Steph wants to cry because it’s _so cold_. It’s worse than any winter she’d spent with her mother. Not even the one where they didn’t have any firewood for a week in the middle of a blizzard. Steph’s never going to be warm again. This chill is going to cling to her _soul_ and nothing’s going to take it away. She could sit in the stinging sunlight on the hottest day on record and she’d still shiver. Nothing can help. Nothing can take this wet coldness away. Nothing can help.

Her mind floats somewhere above her neck, cut off from her body. It reminds Steph of clouds floating in a sky, the way her mind feels. It’s just floating by, buffeted by unseen winds and making odd shapes that only make sense if you tilt your head a particular way. Her mind feels as heavy as a cloud too, just heavy with condensation that’s ready to wash over the earth. A bolt of lightning ripples through the dark clouds, bright blue. Steph counts, one, and thunder cracks in her ears. It’s close. Too close to her.

The weather changes, transforming from a thunderstorm to a blizzard again. There’s snow and biting winds that would cut her skin open. Steph remembers one time she’d forgotten to wrap her scarf around her lower face and she’d wound up with tiny abrasions on her cheekbones. God, she feels so heavy. Like she’d accidentally gotten trapped under a pile of snow. She digs and digs and digs but the snow keeps piling on. She’s no closer to breaching the surface.

Her fingers are numb and blue but Steph keeps digging. She had to get out. She’s got a family to back home to. There’s people waiting for her, relying on her. Stephanie digs and digs, ignoring the way her breath rattles asthmatically with every inhale. Icicles must be forming in her lungs with every breath. Sharp little crystals coming to life every time her lungs expand and contract, turning the pink muscles a worrying shade of blue. 

She cries, distantly aware that her tears aren’t freezing, sobbing for her mother, for someone, anyone to please help her. She doesn’t want to die. Not like this. Yes, she’d always thought that she’d give her life up for her country but not like this. Steph thought she’d have lived her life more. She’d have done _more_. She’d have at least have fallen in love with someone.

Wait. _Wait. _A thread snaps out to connect mind and body. _That’s not right. I do have someone I love. _

Images flash in her mind. Pretty blue eyes framed by long lashes, Thin lips painted cherry red. Movie-star-esque dark long hair. Sparks flying as hammer meets hot metal. Gold mesh covering shapely thighs. A toothy smile that shows off a crooked canine. A red and gold helmet, tumbling to the floor. A gauntlet with a blue light at the end of the palm. Gold metal turning orange under the light of the fireplace.

_Natasha. _

Yes. Natasha. Her name, memories of her, are like being swaddled in blankets. If this is what new born babies feel like when they’re wrapped up in warm cloth, Stephanie can understand why they like this so much. It’s comforting. Warm as a mother’s loving embrace. Steph could stay here forever, with her head in her mother’s lap, having her hair stroked while her mom talks. She smiles as her mom talks about how Brenda had an accident in the lab. She messed up the labels on two of her vials and put the wrong one into the beaker, resulting in a chemical reaction that sent a shot of purple gloop flying up into the ceiling only for it to get stuck there. It’s going to be stuck there forever now for all they know.

“Nate had some accident with his Bites too,” her mom is saying, soft voice turning deeper. Her mom talks about Nate almost electrocuting Clara during a training session because he’d messed up the settings of his Bites. She talks about the Regina and Sam Reeds and how they’re expecting their first child (”God, that kid’s going to be the smartest person we know and an absolute terror.”)

While Steph has thought the world of her mother, and considered her to be one of the strongest people she knows, her voice has always been meek. She rarely had raised her voice. And now, her voice is different. It’s still low but there’s more confidence in it. More self-assuredness if that makes sense. Also, was her mom's voice this low and husky? She remember it being just a touch nasal-y. 

Content, Steph nuzzles closer, tightening her grip because she’s soft and warm and she doesn’t want to let go of the body she’s pressed against. It’s soft and warm, smelling vaguely of metal and a familiar perfume that makes the put of her stomach melt with vague lust. It brings back visceral memories of all the gala’s her and Natasha have attended together. All the times she’d vainly tried not to breathe in the floral scent wafting off Natasha as she’d helped the other woman put on her jewelry while desperately beating down the desire to kiss the pale flesh in front of her.

Her fingers run up a stretch of warm skin, idly noting the shiver that runs through the body against her. The voice in her ear stops mid-sentence. Steph wants to complain. She whispers, “Don’t stop.” But Natasha’s pulling away.

Worried blue eyes peer at him. Steph blearily stares back, taking in the way the firelight is highlighting Natasha’s messy dark hair. It’s like there’s a halo around her when she touches Steph’s cheek. It might be the poor lighting but Natasha looks pale. “You’re awake,” Natasha breathes out. “I was so sca- When I saw you hit the ice I thought… You weren’t fighting back. I… I found this place and I…”

Steph’s eyes slide around the room. It’s a cabin probably. Dusty as hell. But shelter is shelter, especially when it’s cold and you can use the fireplace. Steph closes her eyes and moves to close the distance between their bodies, shifting one thigh between Natasha’s because that’s going to be a more comfortable pose to go to slee-

Wait.

Steph’s eyes fly open in alarm and she peers down under the heavy blankets to confirm what she’s just realized. And yep. She’s naked under a bunch of heavy quilts, cuddling her crush. Who is turning red the longer Steph stares at her. But she’s also frowning, jaw set in stubborn determination. 

“You almost _died _because of hypothermia,” Natasha grumbles, refusing to meet Steph’s eyes. “This was the fastest and most efficient way to warm you up. And you’re not all the way warm yet so… shut up and let me just…”

Numb for a whole new reason now, Steph lets Natasha’s hands pull her in. And perhaps the chill has broken the connection between her brain and mouth because she tentatively asks, “You’re not just doing this to save me… right? I mean… you wouldn’t do this for just _anyone_… right?”

“If you’re fishing for the fact that you’re special to me then yes. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” Natasha answers. Wood pops cheerily behind Natasha and Steph can only stare at Natasha’s collarbone, wanting so badly to brush kisses against the soft skin. It's amazing how a distant part of her brain is processing the fact that Natasha's breasts are _right there, _literally under her nose, and they feel so heavenly soft but Steph's not having a complete panicky meltdown. Her heart melts in relief when she feels a ginger kiss brushing against her hairline. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again," Natasha whispers into her hairline. "I… I thought I’d lost you.”

Steph wraps her arms around Natasha, hands pressed flat against her back. She can _feel _the worried thudding of the brunette’s heart under her palms. And that’s when she kisses Natasha’s skin, whatever’s in her reach. “Thank you for saving me. You always do.”

“Please don’t make a habit out of it,” Natasha pleads, the hand on the back of Steph’s neck tightening.

Steph can’t help but smile. “I’ll try. But I know I can always count on you to find me.”

“You’re so lucky I love you.”

It’s a weak complaint and oh it makes Steph’s heart swoon with happiness. She pulls back so that they’re face to face. Steph takes in the worry in Natasha’s eyes, thinks about how much courage it takes to even tentatively _hint _to someone that you like them, and decides she’ll spend the rest of her life trying to be worthy of Natasha’s love. 

“Yeah,” Steph answers after a second, as softly and lovingly as she can. “I really am.”


End file.
